


Closure

by olivemartini



Series: The Malec Chronicles [25]
Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 18:49:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11950443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivemartini/pseuds/olivemartini
Summary: He remembers dreaming of blood in the streets and demons in the sky, and thinking that he should run to safer places but didn't because he wanted to stay for Alec.The war is here now.It's Alec who left.





	Closure

He sleeps in an empty bed.

Magnus knows that he must have spent more of his life sleeping alone than with someone else, but it doesn't feel like that at the moment, now that he's gone back to cold sheets and quiet rooms after months of having Alec curl around him, of having Alec to turn to in the middle of the night when the dreams wake him, of pulling back the sheets after Alec has fallen asleep and have him wake just long enough to mumble that he loves him.  

He finds that he misses him most in the hours where there is nothing to do and no problems to solve, in the quiet hours of the night where all the sensible people have already gone to sleep.  Magnus doesn't find sleep easily now, not when those old dreams about streets running red with blood and a demon filled sky have found there way to him once more.

Magnus remembers the first time that he had the dream, how he had stood on the balcony with his face turned to the sky to hide his fear, and Alec had hovered behind him, listening, waiting.  "What does it mean?"

He remembers his voice, the thing that made Magnus think that this was a man who might be able to take being with a warlock, because he did not flinch away from fact or call him insane, just asked him in a calm, collected way, like he was ready to face what may come.  "It means war,"  Magnus had answered, thinking of those other places he could run to, of those other realms and worlds and wonders he had not yet seen, but then he had sank back into Alec's chest and felt his arms wrap around his waist and thought that he would not be leaving, no matter what, not while he had Alec with him.

The war is here, now.

It's Alec that left.

 

 

The world is weeping.

This is what he thinks, when he sits on the couch early in the morning, already drunk.  The thought may have also come from the fact that he was crying, too, but he chooses not to notice that.  Magnus never did like to cry.

"Why does this hurt so bad?"  He looks up to Catarina, who had showed up this morning because apparently he had left her multiple voice mails, each more concerning than the last.  He cannot remember any of them.  "None of the others hurt this bad."

"Because this one was real."  She murmurs in some language he has yet to learn, stroking his hair, but Magnus got the sentiment of it.  "Because you were closing yourself off, and he cracked you open, and then poured the love of heaven to make you into something different."

 _Love of heaven,_ Magnus tries, rolling it around on his tongue and in his mind long after he had left, thinking of how that was true.  Thinking about how Alec had held back, but then spark turned to flame and the floodgates open, and every lovely, awful, beautiful, terrifying feeling had poured out of him.  How he had tried to piece together Magnus' broken parts without knowing he was doing it, and trusted Magnus with everything, with the most intimate parts of himself, and asked for nothing in return.  How he had stood like shelter in the storm even as everyone else beat against him, telling him, no, no, not this one.

And yet he chose Magnus.

"He loved me like an angel,"  Magnus said, even though he was only speaking to the cat.  "Angels, and all I could give him was a demon's kind of love."

 

 

He'd been told that he decorates to reflect his mood, and this is definitely true now.  It's dark, without proper lighting and with heavy curtains blocking the windows, and the take out food containers are piling up in all the corners, and he doesn't think he's washed his hair in over a week.  So when he opens the door to see Izzy, he wants to feel embarrassed but doesn't quite have the energy to make it there.

"You,"  She snarls, and stalks into the room in the way she does, whip curling and uncurling around her arm.  She slashes the curtains apart with a flick of her wrist and Magnus watches it warily when she turns toward him.  "Are going to get a phone call sometime soon.  And you are going to answer it."

"From your darling brother, I assume?"  He says the word darling and then cringes, because that is what he had called Alec and brings up memories of other times he had said it, time he shouted it across the room to get his attention and times he only had to whisper it because they were so close together.  "Why on earth should I answer?"

"Because you hurt him.  And now he needs closure.  And you are going to give it to him, or I'll slice you to pieces."

She means it, he knows that she means it, and yet it is not threatening, not when she's standing in this messy room and was looking like a lost little girl.  Like she's trying to fix this and doesn't know how, like she isn't used to a version of her brother that is less than rock solid.  "Why do people keep acting like this is my fault?"  Magnus bursts out, which is immature and unfair but can't be helped because, hello, did anyone else remember that Alec was going to kill him?  "What about what he did?  What about my pain?  Do you think this, me, right now,"  He waves a hand so fast that blue sparks fly out, and Izzy jerks back.  He can see where they singed her clothes and has a horrible sinking feeling, because this is just another thing for Alec to hate him for, when he finally brings himself to hatred.  And he will.  They always do.  "Do you think this is what I look like when I'm fine?"

Izzy stares at him, clutching the whip to her chest like other girls hold onto teddy bears.  "Maybe you need the closure, too."

Magnus stares at the closed door when she leaves and thinking of burying himself in the darkness, but the sun feels good on his face, so he crosses the room and throws open the window instead.

He already knows that he'll answer the phone.

 

 

 

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Breathing, forcibly calm and incredibly familiar.  A stuttered out sentence.  A few other attempts to start talking when Magnus didn't respond, all of them trailing off and returning back to the quiet.  Magnus wants to hang up, but doesn't, just leans against the counter and stares at the sky in hopes that he will somehow find the strength to speak, so the two of them just stay on the phone and listen to the rhythm of their sighs, in, out, in, out.

"I'm sorry, too." 

 

 

That night, he dreams once more of a demon covered sky.  There is no one to turn to when he wakes.

 

 

 

 


End file.
